Gerard’s POV:
As Christmas Eve grew closer and closer, I felt myself tense up more and more. Not because I wasn’t looking forward to it, because I really was. At least on the children’s part. Frank had convinced me to agree on us celebrating like Jamia always did, with Norwegian traditions, as she was of Norwegian inheritance. I had agreed because, out of the household, four out of six people were already used to celebrate that way, so it made more sense. Besides, I hardly thought Bandit would care if things got changed up a bit.
No, it was not this part of Christmas that somehow scared me. It was rather my decision to confess my feelings for Frank to him that scared me. Deep down I knew that I had nothing to be afraid of, at least not after the talk Mikey had with me on Thanksgiving, but I was anyway. For all I knew, I could get rejected, and just the thought of that had me shuddering. But, anyhow of how scared I might be of it, I knew that it would be even worse to not go through with it, so I simply had to.
It was now or never.
***
I woke up early on Christmas Eve, due to the fact that I’d been hearing the kids ramble around in their rooms for a while. Probably about an hour or so, but it was more than enough to wake me up. Besides, the light was shimmering lightly through my curtains like a dream, ushering me to get up. I groaned loudly, wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and got up. Still in my pajama and with a bad case of bed hair I went down to the kitchen where Frank was sitting in a chair, a cup of coffee in his hands.
“The coffee is still hot.” He informed me.
I got over to the cabinet and pulled out my all-time favorite cup. It was plain white, except from the inscription ‘Daddy’ in gold letterings. Bandit got it made for me two years ago. I walked back to the coffee machine and poured some from the can. The smell instantly hit me and I felt my body quicken a bit, as if awaiting the nourishment it so desperately needed. I wanted to laugh just at the thought, because that’s how addicted I had become to coffee. With the cup in my hand I went over to Frank, sitting above the table from him and I started to sip my precious coffee, letting the warmth from it warm up my body.
“You look happy today.” Frank commented, and I nodded. I was happy. “Have you seen the kids yet?”
“No, but I’ve heard them. They must be in their rooms, playing. But, after I finish this coffee, I’m going up to get them.”
Frank nodded in agreement, before going back to sipping on his own coffee silently. I did the same, figuring that it was best to enjoy the silence now that I had the chance, knowing things would be different very soon. Sitting there, all silence around me except from the sounds from Frank drinking his coffee, I couldn’t help but think back to the day that Frank had asked me to celebrate with Norwegian traditions.
Asked was maybe the wrong way to put it though. It was more like stuttering. He had come to me after the kids had gone to sleep, his face a huge question mark. When I had asked him what it was, he only stuttered and his face went tomato red. I had cocked my head to the side, wondering what it could be that he wanted to say, but found so hard.
“Spit it out.” I had said, wanting nothing else but hear what it was that was making him so flustered.
I saw his face go one shade darker, if that was even possible, and then he mumbled something that sounded like Christmas.
“What about Christmas, Frank?”
“I wondered if there is a possibility that we can celebrate it with Norwegian traditions?” The question came out so weak that I almost thought he didn’t mean it, but I knew him, and I knew that he meant it. And, if it hadn’t been for the fact that I knew Jamia was of Norwegian heritage, I would probably have found this very strange of him to ask.
